


Revolver

by itachiscatears



Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Bandit Senjus, Gen, Gun Violence, Law Enforcement Uchiha, Pre-Relationship, Threats of Violence/Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:22:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29386956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itachiscatears/pseuds/itachiscatears
Summary: Madara and Izuna Uchiha are on a journey to avenge the deaths of their brothers by the Senjus, a bandit family with their own sense of ethics. They become the law enforcers of a town hit often by the Senjus, bringing them closer and closer to their goal.*"Maybe you can help me," Senju says over the din of the saloon. His voice is raspier than his brothers'."Maybe," Izuna says pleasantly. "What can I do you for?"
Relationships: Senju Itama & Uchiha Izuna, Senju Itama/Uchiha Izuna
Series: Naruto AU Week 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151513
Comments: 6
Kudos: 5
Collections: Naruto AU Week 2021





	Revolver

**Author's Note:**

> Set very vaguely towards the end of the 1800s. The Uchihas and Senjus are originally from Japan. This was just an excuse to write more about sharpshooter Itama from the Yakuza AU, tbh. Maybe this is all a dream? 
> 
> Written for: 
> 
> Naruto AU Week 2021 - Day 5: Cowboy/Western | ~~Ghibli~~
> 
> Izuna Week 2021 - Day 5: (prompts ignored for my own agenda whoops but they were optional so it's all cool)

The saloon is packed: cowboys, miners and businessmen are squeezed into every available corner, tabletops sticky with spilled beer. A dilapidated piano wrings out tired notes as two men compete for the worst rendition of a song Izuna has never heard.

His target is trying vainly to get the attention of the saloon owner. Izuna leans against the end of the bar counter, hip cocked. His holster cannot be missed, nor the badge pinned to his lapel.

His target's clothes say Senju: green shirt, neat layers, thigh-length overcoat. When he turns his head, Izuna's suspicions are confirmed: one white eyebrow, one black. He is sure, without a doubt, that there is half a head of white hair hiding under that hat.

He is not aware of this Senju's name, but his description had made its way to Izuna's ears after the Hagoromos' farm was ransacked: horses, cows, even the harvest gone in the middle of the night. That bastard Hashirama and one of his younger brothers, identified only by his strange colouring, had been seen selling one of the horses only a town over the next day.

Izuna cannot say he feels very strongly about the Hagoromos' plight, seeing as they had stolen the land and the animals from right under another family months before he and Madara had arrived, but as deputy sheriff he has to at least pretend to give a shit. 

Senju finally notices him when the saloon owner nods to him in acknowledgement. His eyes flicker from Izuna's face to his badge and back.

"Maybe you can help me," Senju says over the din of the saloon. His voice is raspier than his brothers'.

"Maybe," Izuna says pleasantly. "What can I do you for?"

Senju approaches to be heard better, one hand resting on the sticky bar counter. "I'm a little lost, sir. I'm just trying to figure out how to get to Wind City from here."

"Not familiar with the area?"

"No, sir. I'm following a job."

"Mmm. You sure you want to be working out in the desert?"

"It's all I've got. Unless there's something for me around here?"

"Oh, maybe. You could talk to the ranchers. You any good with horses?"

"Been riding since before I could walk."

"I know a man who could use a hand. Hagoromo."

"That's terribly nice of you, sir. Can I buy you a drink as thanks?"

"Well, now, I didn't say I'd introduce you. Truth is, he probably wouldn't want to hire Senju filth."

The nearest patrons turn at the name. Senju's smile is frozen on his face.

Izuna steps forward, boots heavy on the tired floorboards. One foot after another, closer and closer to Senju Tobirama's little brother. It is not the same as getting Tobirama himself, but Izuna has a feeling he should not look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," Senju murmurs, or something along those lines: all Izuna can hear is the metallic snap of a gun being loaded.

"If anyone so much as _sniffs_ in his direction, I'll shoot you myself," he says loudly, not looking away from sunburned cheeks and quick dark eyes. "What's your name, Senju? Not that your lot waited to hear my brothers' names before they killed them. We're different, us Uchiha. We give you the respect of being known before we end you."

"What were their names?"

Izuna unholsters his gun and checks the cylinder, though he knows there is a bullet in each chamber. He had loaded it as soon as one of the town runner's had informed him that a horse that looked suspiciously like one of the Senjus' favoured breeds had shown up outside the town saloon.

"Togakushi, Kuromaru and Nagano."

"I'm sorry about your brothers. My name's Itama."

"Never heard of you, but nice to make your acquaintance. I'm Deputy Sheriff Izuna Uchiha. Let's step outside so we don't make a mess."

Itama moves slowly, hands open at his sides. "I know who you are," he says as he walks to the door. "Tobirama's mentioned you."

"All good things, I hope. If some kind soul could get the door for us—thank you."

"He said you give him trouble every time he's in town. And that you're faster than you look."

Izuna fires and misses, the bullet plunging right through the closed door. Itama points a revolver between his eyes and another at the man who had stood to let them out, coat flipped back over his hips where two holsters sit flush to his waist.

"You're surrounded," Izuna says patiently, though his heart is hiccoughing in his chest. "And there's a man on the other side with a shotgun ready to blast your fucking knees if you try to run."

"I appreciate the warning." Itama is panting a little, similarly affected by the missed shot, though his hands are steady. He spins the cylinders— _showing off_. "I hope you didn't do anything to my horse. She hasn't done anything wrong."

It is only the sheer number of gunfights that Izuna has been in that keeps him from following his instincts and ducking as a report rattles through his ringing skull. Itama does not bother trying to fumble with the door handle as the others throw themselves down for cover, running straight through it and ripping it off its admittedly pathetic hinges. Izuna flies after him.

Men spill out of the saloon behind them. Izuna steadies his gun between two hands, prepared to take a second shot, but Itama is anticipating bullets and darts from side to side as he runs. His horse is tied next to a trough of water a few hundred feet from the saloon: it almost seems as if he will make it when two men on horseback double around and hem him in, one aiming a shotgun at his head.

He skids and goes down briefly on one knee. "I don't want to hurt anyone," he calls, revolvers hovering at his thighs. "You just let me through and everyone's happy."

"You're surrounded," Izuna calls back, nearly breathless with excitement. "Put them down, _now."_

"I don't want to hurt anyone," Itama repeats. "Please—"

One of the horsemen aims to shoot. Izuna opens his mouth to yell at him to shoot on his life, but Itama is quicker: Izuna's ears strain as three shots ring out, the first horseman rearing back as if he has been hit and the other tumbling to the ground as a bullet tears into his shoulder. He screams as at least two of the horse's feet trample him in its panic. Izuna lurches forward and then simply stands there as Itama sprints towards the trough, holstering his guns and ripping open the knot tying his horse to the pole. His hat flies off his head as he leads the mare to the road, leaping onto her back when she begins to overtake him and nearly tumbling right over. He rights himself at the last moment and grabs his left revolver for protection as he fists the reins, unbound hair streaming behind him.

Izuna nearly empties the chamber into his back, but the distance is too great: every shot will miss. He glowers at the retreating beast, chest heaving in fury.

He will not make the same mistake again; the next time he meets Itama Senju, or any of his damned brothers, he will skip the small talk and take his shot.

He will _not miss._

*

They will not hear about it until the early hours of the morning, but it had not been a coincidence that Itama Senju had been in their saloon. No, he been there with a purpose: keep the Deputy Sheriff busy like Hashirama was keeping Madara busy with a wild goose chase around the river while their brothers looted the only bank for a hundred miles.

The town evicts them the same morning, spitting abuse, but Madara's eyes are bright.

"That damned idiot Hashirama runs his mouth when he's excited. I think I know where they're stationed."


End file.
